Food Stories has been predominantly recipe (not restaurant) focused this year. Creating is what makes me feel happiest inside, it turns out. So here are my favourite recipes of 2011, followed by the most memorable guilty pleasures; it would be terribly neglectful to exclude the latter, I think, as it’s surely clear by now that I’m quite partial to a filthy (probably pork-based, definitely artery-shuddering) snackette, or four.

1. Egg Yolk Ravioli (top photo)

It took three attempts, but I eventually nailed this recipe and was rewarded with some of the most decadent pasta I’ve ever eaten; a quivering yolk coddled by a ring of spinach and ricotta, ready to ooze headlong into a sauce that is made almost entirely from melted butter. Crushed pink peppercorns and purple basil made it one of my prettiest plates of 2011, too.

2. Piri Piri Chicken

2011 was the year I got even more into BBQ. Come drizzle, hail or sunshine, I was out there guarding that Weber, tongs in hand, bucket of meat on standby. We worked our way through jerk; brisket; brats cooked in beer; pulled pork and an obscene amount of wings (more on those later) but one of my favourite recipes was this piri piri chicken, inspired by a local takeaway. The combination of charred chicken (for piri piri must be charred), feisty chilli and tangy vinegar sauce made this one of my hits of the summer.

3. Boston Baked Beans

These rich and smoky Boston baked beans are thick with molasses and packed with nubs of smoked pork belly. They’re about as different to regular baked beans as you can imagine and they rocked my world.

4. Baghdad Eggs

I first came across Baghdad eggs in Jake Tilson’s brilliant cook book, ‘A Tale of 12 Kitchens’. This combination of  onions, sharp yoghurt and spiced butter on eggs is now my favourite weekend brunch.

5. Daim Bar Ice Cream

I visited Sweden this year and re-discovered Daim Bars. They went straight into ice cream. I watched my boyfriend devour the remains of this, straight from the tub with a spoon, after which he lay back, clutching his stomach, moaning “I feel siiiiiiick”. In a good way, you understand.

6. Ham Cooked in Coca Cola with a Rum and Molasses Glaze

The only way to make this sticky-sweet ham any better would be to pull great big hunks off it, stick it in a sandwich with some deep fried pickles and…oh, wait a minute.

7. Hickory Smoked Hot Wings 

After my first batch of home made hot wings, I wanted to do a variation and decided to smoke them using hickory wood chips, before dousing them as usual in Frank’s Hot Sauce and melted butter. Come to mama.

8. Smoky Aubergine and Lamb Pide

Pide are like a pointy Middle Eastern version of pizza. I based the recipe on my ‘Peckham Pizza’ (based on lahmacun). The topping is an intense paste made from spiced, minced lamb and the flesh from a charred aubergine. Garnished with chopped pickles and herbs, they’re lovely eaten as is, or wrapped around some salad.

 9. Pork Pibil Tacos

This pibil was made with pork knuckles and smothered in achiote paste – a wonderful ingredient which simply has no substitute. The tacos were spicy, drizzled as they were with a sauce made from orange juice, onion and scotch bonnet chillies.

10. Sausage Rolls with Apricots and Whisky-Caramelised Onions

And finally, a seasonal entry at number 10, my new favourite sausage roll recipe. Onions were slowly, slowly caramelised then bubbled furiously with whisky before going into these sausage rolls along with some dried apricots. The sweetness worked so well with the sausage meat and I’ve had great feedback from people who’ve made them this Christmas.

For the guilty pleasures, I’ve exercised some restraint (most uncharacteristic) and narrowed it down to five:

1. Baked Gnocchi with Gorgonzola and Spinach

Sneaking in on 3rd Jan was this rather naughty dish I made for my boyfriend’s birthday dinner. Home-made gnocchi baked in a sauce of Gorgonzola and cream, with a little spinach thrown in to ease the guilt. The gnocchi goes crispy on top while remaining gooey and soft underneath. A cardiologist’s nightmare.

2. Wedge Salad with Blue Cheese Dressing and Candied Bacon

Candied bacon is definitely one of my top guilty pleasures of the year, so much so I wrote a whole post about making it and using it. I have fond memories though of this ‘salad’ garnish, chopped candied bacon sprinkled over a river of blue cheese dressing and crunchy iceberg.

3. Deep Fried Pickles

Everyone went mad for these in 2011. I stuffed mine into a sandwich with coca cola ham and hot sauce. Then I had a lie down.

4. Meatwagon Burgers

I’ve followed Yianni’s journey from his van in Peckham, through #Meateasy in New Cross and now to Meat Liquor via The Rye. The latter has to be the most convenient and dangerous burger vending situation ever in existence if the state of my waistline is anything to go by. The Rye pub is opposite my house you see and for a few glorious months I needed to do little more than hop over the road to get my fix. Now they’re gone and Meat Liquor is in central London. I could cry.

5. Eggy Bread and Candied Bacon Sandwich

In at number 5: the sandwich of shame. I had candied bacon to hand and I’d just made eggy bread. It had to be done, see? We felt the guilt after eating this but damn, it was good. Sick, but good. If you’re into sandwiches, I’ve written a post about my top 5 here.

Phew. No wonder I need to lose weight. The diet inevitably starts er, tomorrow but until then I’ve got a Ginger Pig rib eye with my name on it. Happy New Year everyone. Thank you for reading and here’s to a tasty 2012. Cheers!

I was privy to an e-mail recently that said all I ever talk about is pork. Well, Mr. Anti-Swine, stick this in your judgement pipe and smoke it.* Corn! A vegetable! Serious!

Defensive? Moi?

The golden cobs were 5 for a pound in Peckham last week, which is obviously an offer only a stupid woman would refuse. I decided to smoke them using hickory chips, considering I’d had such success with the hot wings (that’s chicken, right? Pigs don’t have wings, silly!) The Gods of Confidence were there to teach me a lesson however and the first time I was way too enthusiastic with the chips. It is definitely possible to over-smoke things, which seems really obvious now that I’ve done it.

My default topping for corn is usually butter mixed with chipotle and lime but I didn’t want to confuse things with smoky chipotle and smoky corn so I just gave them a thorough butter-bath followed by a scattering of my best (unsmoked) paprika, the zest of a lime and a good squeeze of its juice.

I can see myself using these in some sort of relish, or maybe serving them frittered with bacon. Oh no wait…

*Okay FINE, so it has been a little pork heavy around here lately. Ahem.

Hickory smoked corn

Butter
Paprika, cayenne or fresh chilli (whatever takes your fancy)
Lime juice and zest
Salt and pepper

Hickory wood chips for smoking (1 handful. Do not be tempted to add any more for 4 cobs).

Light your BBQ for indirect cooking (with the coals to one side). The corn doesn’t necessarily need indirect cooking but you’re using wood chips and (apparently) should never cook food directly over the smoke. Soak a handful of chips in cold water while the BBQ is lighting.

When it is hot, put your corns on the side that is without coals, throw your chips into the coals then put the lid on your BBQ. Cook until the corn cobs are tender and juicy – about 20 minutes. Adorn with butter, lime, chilli, salt and pepper.

Last night, I went to check out the Queens of ‘Cue supper club/underground restaurant/whatever you want to call it, in Peckham. At 6.30pm, we found ourselves wandering around what seemed like a derelict yard off the Old Kent Road, BYO booze in hands, lost and slightly confused. The signs, they are small.

Eventually though we came across a precarious metal staircase and ascended to a vast, bright studio (one of the hosts is an artist), stopped briefly to wallow in envy and then followed our noses outside to find 3 BBQ’s on the go, one stuffed with beef ribs, the other grilling steak, various pots and pans bubbling on top. An excellent (spiky and tart) caipirinha was thrust into our hands and we munched on ‘giobada and queijo toasts’, which were in fact little chewy, cheesy buns, kind of like savoury scones, with home-made cheese and a guava paste exactly like membrillo, but obviously made with guava. The theme of the evening was Brazilian you see, and they’d gone to town on making things ‘authentic’.

The steak had come from a Brazilian butcher in Brixton; they’d intended to buy it from the East London Steak Co. but felt a pang of local loyalty post-riots and decided to support a local business instead. Good on them I say. We helped ourselves to salad from the table and demolished slices of perfectly cooked, butter-tender steak. The flavour of the meat was excellent (I’d been a bit dubious for some reason) with a moreish, properly seasoned crust.

The ribs had come from the East London Steak Co. after all and were huge; a peek under the BBQ hood on arrival had got me very excited. In the end they could have done with a bit more cooking to be honest; I’m not against a chewy rib believe me but they were very large and a bit hard to eat. That said, great flavour, great rub and fantastic sides of feijoada (a rich stew of beans with beef and chorizo), rice with sweetcorn and peas and a healthy serving of kale. Oh how I love the iron intensity of kale.

An unexpected watermelon granita filled a gap and preceded a creme caramel made with condensed milk because, according to our hosts, “almost everything in Brazil is made with condensed milk.” There was coffee to finish, served with obscenely good chocolate truffles which we wolfed before staggering out into the night to our taxi.

So, I would recommend Queens of ‘Cue to locals and non-locals alike. One guy said he “hated South London” after he’d had a hard time travelling from Dalston. Did he go via the moon? “You’re talking to the wrong woman mate” I hissed through gritted teeth.

The evenings each have a different theme; ours was a ‘cow feast’ and the next is ‘fish’ (3rd September) followed by ‘game and venison’ (17th September). It’s £25 and BYO booze. There’s a lot of food for your money (seconds were offered too), the hosts are charming and interesting, the studio space is great and you get to wander around a ramshackle yard in the dark, pissed, looking for a questionably plumbed toilet in an outhouse. That last bit doesn’t sound appealing? Oh come on, where’s your sense of adventure…

Queens of ‘Cue, Peckham
£25 pp, BYO booze
Address available after booking, see blog for details

The first time I made hot wings they were good, but not hot enough. I wanted try again using the authentic, not very secret ingredient, Frank’s Original Hot Sauce. I also wanted to try my hand at smoking them so I sensed the opportunity for an Amazon binge and bought: 3 bottles of Frank’s, a tub of Old Bay Seasoning, a Weber chimney starter and a pack of hickory wood chips.

I would encourage anyone who owns a half decent BBQ with a lid to buy some wood chips for smoking immediately, if you haven’t already. There were almost tears of joy when we lifted the lid to find a rack of wings turned orange with hickory smoke; I was amazed at the results you can achieve with just a regular home kettle BBQ.

I’d marinated the wings overnight in herbs and seasonings, then smoked them for 25 minutes a side over indirect heat with the hickory chips thrown in. They emerged crisp and burnished brown, ready for a good plunge into a combo of Frank’s Original and melted butter before going back on the grill, over direct heat for another 20 minutes. To finish, a final lick of that sauce and straight onto the plate.

The smoking, together with the sweet, vinegar-chilli punch of Frank’s (it’s like a thick Tabasco) cut with velvety butter, makes the flavour incredibly intense – not to mention sticky. A mound of discarded kitchen paper stained orange with sauce rose before us as we worked our way, just the 2 of us, through 24 wings.

It seemed appropriate to cut the heat and umami with something a little sharp, a little creamy; a cool, crunchy pit stop between wings. Slaw. This is a classic mix of carrot, white cabbage and red onion; the sauce a mix of sour cream, natural yoghurt, a smidge of American mustard and my secret ingredient – a slosh of juice from a jar of dill cucumbers, which adds a lovely spiced-sweet pickled note.

Later on, we deep-fried more pickles and shoved them into a sandwich with shredded wing meat and slaw. So gluttonous. So unhealthy. So. Good.

Hickory Smoked Hot Wings

26-30 chicken wings

For the marinade

2 cloves garlic
1 white onion
3 teaspoons thyme leaves
3 teaspoons dried oregano
1 teaspoon Old Bay Seasoning
1 tablespoon salt
1 teaspoon paprika
1.5 teaspoons ground black pepper

For the sauce

1 bottle plus 2 tablespoons Frank’s Original Hot Sauce (that’s about 12 tablespoons in total)
125g butter

You will also need hickory chips for smoking the meat.

Begin the day before by marinating the wings. Put the onion in a blender with the garlic and 1-2 tablespoons water and blend to a paste. Put into a large bowl (the one you will use to hold the wings) and add all the other marinade ingredients. Mix well. Add the wings and mix really well to make sure they are all evenly coated. Refrigerate overnight.

When you’re ready to cook the wings, remove them from the fridge to bring the temperature up and set up your BBQ for indirect cooking; this means lighting the coals to one side (you will cook the meat on the other side). Take a couple of handfuls of hickory chips and soak them in cold water for at least 30 minutes.

When the BBQ is ready, sprinkle a handful of chips directly onto the coals and put your wings on the other side in a single layer (you may need to do 2 batches as I did). Put the lid on (leave the holes half open) and smoke for 25 minutes. After this time, turn the wings and sprinkle on a few more chips.

Melt the butter and hot sauce together in a pan (don’t be alarmed at the strength of it, this will be tamed somewhat once on the wings). Remove half of it to a bowl and dunk the wings in it, then return to the grill, this time directly over the coals for about 10 minutes each side, until well charred. Dunk again in the sauce before serving. Get the kitchen paper ready.

Sour cream slaw

1/4 white cabbage, very finely shredded
1 medium sized carrot, grated, julienned or shredded in a processor
1/2 red onion, finely sliced
3 heaped tablespoons sour cream
3 tablespoons natural yoghurt
1 teaspoon American mustard
1 tablespoon snipped chives
2 tablespoons juice from a jar of dill pickled cucumbers
Salt and pepper

If you can use a food processor to finely shred the vegetables, do. I used a julienne peeler for the carrot and just finely sliced the onion and cabbage by hand. Put the veg in a large bowl. In another bowl, make the dressing by mixing together all the remaining ingredients. Mix this well with the vegetables. Season with salt and pepper.

Git yerselves down to my local, The Rye pub in Peckham this Sunday for a humdinger of an opening party. The Meatwagon in association with Carnal Chef presents ‘Bourbon and Rye’: live music, meatwagon burgers, drinks from Soulshakers plus some serious American ‘que. Bourbon! BBQ! Cornhole! My liver quivers at the memory of Meateasy but my mind and heart say TAKE ME BACK AND HIT ME ONE MORE TIME. Let the fun begin…

The Rye
31 Peckham Rye
SE15 3NX

This isn’t turning into the grilled meat blog, I promise. It’s just, well, it’s summer isn’t it and I’m either having or getting invited to a lot of barbecues. Wings always fit the bill because they’re cheap, cook quickly and have a lot of fat for their size, which means loads of crisp, charred skin. Tick, tick and tick.

Thinking about it, this is probably the unhealthiest of all ways to cook wings without deep frying them first.* They’re hot wings you see, which means they’re bathed in hot sauce cut with a load of melted butter.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. It begins the night before with a marinade made from onion, garlic, thyme, oregano and paprika. Then right before cooking you melt the butter with the hot sauce, dunk the wings in half of it and grill them, reserving the other half for later. When they are charred and cooked through, you dunk each once again in the sauce, leaving a sweet-spicy coating, silken with butter, which stains your fingers and face bright orange.

These went down well at the BBQ but they weren’t hot enough because I ran out of hot sauce. Traditionally you would use Frank’s to make hot wings; I didn’t as I needed to use up my homemade scotch bonnet sauce but I didn’t realise quite how much the butter would tame it. Still, easily remedied in future. I served them, as is traditional, with celery sticks and a blue cheese dip, which make for a cooling interlude between each sticky wing.

* I would very much like to try deep frying them first then charring them on the BBQ. Sick.

If you like this recipe you may also like:

Sticky rum and scotch bonnet chicken wings
Piri piri chicken
Jerk chicken
Cherry beer can duck

Hot wings with blue cheese dip

For the marinade

30 chicken wings
1 tablespoon salt
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 onion
3 teaspoons thyme leaves
3 teaspoons dried oregano
1.5 teaspoons black pepper
1 teaspoon paprika

For the sauce

250g butter
Hot sauce

Sticks of celery and blue cheese dip, to serve.

Process the onion and garlic in a blender with 1 tablespoon water until you have a puree. Put this puree in a bowl with the salt, thyme, oregano, pepper and paprika. Put the chicken wings in a large dish and rub the marinade all over them, giving them a good rub to make sure each wing is well coated. Refrigerate overnight.

When you want to cook the wings, remove them from the fridge to come to room temperature and start your BBQ. When the BBQ is ready, melt the butter in a small pan and stir in hot sauce to taste. You’ll want it nice and spicy. I only had half this kilner jar of sauce and if you’re using a shop bought sauce you’ll need to experiment. Don’t worry though, it’s not exactly rocket science. Split this sauce into two bowls.

Dump the wings in one of the bowls and mix to cover with the sauce. Grill the wings until charred all over and cooked through. When cooked, dip each into the remaining bowl of sauce.

Serve with sticks of celery and the blue cheese dip.

I just love how the Americans cut a big wedge of iceberg, drench it in blue cheese dressing and then call it a salad. Respect.

I’m rather fond of the poor old iceberg. It doesn’t have any flavour to speak of but as a big ol’ wedge of crunch, no lettuce does it better. So, you take a quarter of the lettuce and drench it; yes, drench it, in a blue cheese and sour cream dressing. Dribble. You’ll need something to offset all that richness and tang though, so why not sprinkle on a handful of sweet ‘n salty pig-candy pieces? Oh yes indeedy. Picture this: kerrrunch down through that wedge; creamy, salty; nuggets of blue cheese sneaking into every layer but then, hang on what’s this? Chewy shards of sticky, streaky candied bacon, that’s what. Salad garnish crack.

Caramelised walnuts would make a lovely alternative to the bacon but I wasn’t allowed to make those because that would have taken up time I could have been using to make more candied bacon.

Wedge salad with blue cheese dressing and candied bacon (serves 4)

1 iceberg lettuce (try to get a nice round one so your wedges look good)
150g blue cheese (I used Roquefort)
200ml sour cream
1 clove garlic, crushed
1 tablespoon lemon juice (plus extra just in case; I found I wanted a little more)
1 teaspoon mustard (I used Dijon)
1 tablespoon chives, snipped with scissors

For the candied bacon

8 rashers streaky bacon
1-2 teaspoons of sugar per bacon rasher, depending on size

First candy the bacon by laying the rashers out on a baking tray and sprinkling the sugar evenly over them. Whack them under a hot grill until crisp and caramelised. Wipe the rashers around in the stick juices that have accumulated in the tray, turn them over and cook the other side. Watch them like a hawk once you’ve turned them as they will caramelise extremely fast. Once cooked, remove and let cool on a wire rack. Don’t let the pieces touch each other as they will stick together.

Crush the garlic with a teeny pinch of salt in a pestle and mortar until creamy. Blend the garlic with all the other dressing ingredients together in a bowl. You can do this with a blender if you like but I like my blue cheese dressing quite chunky so I mash it in a bowl to achieve the right consistency; it’s nice to get the odd nugget of cheese. Taste and add salt and pepper if you like; the cheese will already be quite salty. Taste again and add a little more lemon juice if you think it needs it.

Remove any manky outer leaves from your iceberg and quarter it. Wash it. Arrange each wedge on a plate, dollop on the blue cheese dressing. Cut the bacon into pieces and sprinkle over. Serve.

The first time I tried making these it was a disaster. I came across the idea in a book about American BBQ and decided to bust it out at a mate’s shindig last weekend having given the recipe next to no thought whatsoever; pretty much the opposite of the way I usually approach things. This, combined with the fact we were extremely full from ploughing through a plate of summer rolls, a pile of razor clams and two gigantic bone in rib eyes meant my poor dawgs didn’t stand a chance. We didn’t even get around to tackling my tub of Boston baked beans. Criminal.

I never give up on a recipe though unless I know it’s a total dud. This could never be a dud because THE SAUSAGES ARE SIMMERED IN BEER. Last night, I decided, was the night to conquer the wurst so I went out, bought 2 kinds of sausage, hooked up my umbrella over the BBQ and started paying some damn good attention to detail.

The first time, I’d used bratwurst from LIDL (recommendation from Twitter) and, although I’m no stranger to the delights of Mystery Meat, I think it’s fair to say they weren’t for me. I decided to settle on a comparison of a different bratwurst (Sainsbury’s, still mysterious but somehow tastier) and traditional hot dog – the wurst emerging as clear winner for it’s ability to suck up much more beer. A standard hot dog tastes the same no matter what you do to it, apparently. It needs to be dark beer, by the way, no lager or cider; the latter I tried the first time, with rubbish results. I used Newcastle Brown as that’s all they had in the local shop; you don’t need to go using Brewdog Tokyo or anything, but it would be fun to experiment.

Sauerkraut and onions flavour the sausage and are then strained and caramelised, themselves sticky and saturated with booze. The snap of the wurst is followed by their delicious sweet and sharp balance. A bobbing scotch bonnet left a tantalising tingle on the lips; the Peckham influence. An artful squeeze of mild French’s mustard to finish. Unless you want to add ketchup too of course – I did and I highly recommend it.

BBQ brats simmered with beer and sauerkraut

4 bratwurst (I found the ones available in Sainsbury’s to be perfectly acceptable but I’m sure there’s a whole world of wurst waiting to be discovered)
1 onion, sliced in half moons
6-8 tablespoons sauerkraut
3 tablespoons brown sugar
A splash of white wine vinegar or other vinegar
1 bottle dark beer of your choice (I used Newcastle Brown Ale but be as adventurous as you like)

To serve

Hot dog buns
French’s mild and sweet or similar American-style mustard
Ketchup

You will need a disposable foil tray to cook the brats on the BBQ; these are available in supermarkets or hardware shops.

Get your BBQ hot. When the flames have died down and the coals are grey, it’s time to cook your brats. Prick them several times to allow the beer to penetrate. Put them in the tray with 2 tablespoons of the sugar, the sauerkraut, onion and beer. Put the tray on the BBQ then put the lid on and let cook for 15 minutes, turning them halfway through if not completely submerged in the beer mixture.

After this time, remove the brats from the liquid and put them directly on the BBQ grill to get some char. While they are charring, carefully remove the tray and strain the liquid into a bowl. At this point I tried to caramelise the onions and sauerkraut back in the tray on the BBQ but then gave up as it took too long (and it was raining). I chucked them in a saucepan with the remaining tablespoon of sugar and the vinegar and let them sizzle while I toasted the buns. I got the boyfriend to watch the brats on the BBQ. Makes them feel useful, innit.

To serve, dollop a heap of sauerkraut and onions into each bun, followed by a brat. Squeeze mustard and ketchup on top. Stuff into face.

Visiting Pitt Cue Co. got me thinking about American BBQ and specifically, pulled pork. I don’t have a smoker at home but I do have a decent Weber, which is more than capable of housing a big ol’ hunk of pig shoulder for 4 hours. In she went and out she came, alarmingly black after the allotted cooking time. This is normal. The caramelised crust or ’bark’ is sealing in the moist, fat-bathed meat.

I gave the shoulder a good rubbing 24 hours before with a shed-load of sugar, smoky chipotle flakes, orange zest and garlic plus some ground cloves and allspice because neither ever do any wrong on the grill and they sling things off in another direction. I was pleasantly surprised by how much the rub penetrated the meat and also by how edible that crust turned out to be; crunchy umami-pork-bark.

As the meat was going to take so long on the BBQ, I made use of the oven for 4 hours too, cooking Boston baked beans. They are time consuming as the beans need soaking overnight but wow, the results are worth it.

It starts, as all the best things do, with pork. I bought a piece of smoked pork belly (readily available in Peckham but smoked bacon or pancetta would substitute well), chopped it into chunks (including the rind for extra flavour) and combined it with the beans, Worcestershire sauce, spices and molasses. The molasses is the defining feature of Boston baked beans, Boston being apparently famous for producing loads of the stuff, a fact which led to the ‘Great Molasses Disaster’ in 1919. A 2,300,000 gallon storage tank collapsed, flooding the city with a black slick, killing 21 people. Wikipedia tells us the residents claim you can still catch a whiff of molasses on a hot summers’ day.

Anyway, I can’t recommend these beans enough. They have a very ‘BBQ’  flavour from the pork fat and spices and the malty sweetness of unrefined sugars means it melds into one of the most rich and satisfying dishes I’ve ever eaten; up there with rendang and Marmite on the umami scale.

Ready to go in the oven.

At the end of cooking time, a slightly scary crust has formed on top of the beans.

Breaking through the crust to a chorus of ‘oohs’ and ‘aaahhhs’.

The leftovers on toast the next day. So porky. So smoky.

That white blob in the background is the pickled fennel I made to accompany the meal. Steeped in a mixture of pink peppercorns and citrus zests, it was very welcome alongside the richness of meat n beans. We wiped the plates clean with chunks of sourdough.

This was probably my favourite BBQ of the year so far, even though it rained. There’s no need to give up hope when this happens by the way, just get yourself a chair and an umbrella…

Pulled Pork (serves 2-4, depending on appetite; mine fed 4 but we had beans)

1 x bone-in pork shoulder weighing approximately 2kg
2 tablespoons chipotle flakes
Zest of 1 orange, finely chopped
200g dark brown sugar like muscovado
4 cloves garlic, crushed
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
2 teaspoons ground allspice
1 tablespoon salt

Mix all the ingredients for the rub together well, using your hands. The night before you want to cook the meat, rub it all over, liberally with the rub. Cover and refrigerate overnight.

The next day, remove the meat from the fridge about an hour before you want to cook it. Light the BBQ and when the coals are white, bank them to one side of the grill. Place the meat on the other side so that it is not sitting directly over any coals.

Cook the meat for 4 hours. Each hour, add 8-12 more coals to the pile. This should keep the temperature fairly constant. The meat will be completely black on the outside after this time; don’t worry. Remove the meat to a plate and start pulling it apart to reveal the meat within. Use two forks to shred it. Serve.

Boston Baked Beans (serves 4 with leftovers)

500g dried white beans (I used cannelini but white kidney or haricot beans would also work)
450g piece smoked pork belly (or smoked bacon or pancetta; you want it in one piece so you can cut nice chunks), cut into chunks, including the rind.
2 tablespoons tomato puree
3 tablespoons brown sugar
3 tablespoons molasses
2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
2 bay leaves
1 medium onion, diced
4 cloves
1 cinnamon stick
Salt and pepper

In a large bowl, cover the beans with plenty of cold water, leaving room for them to double in size. Leave to soak overnight. The next day, drain and rinse the beans.

Place them in a large pan or heavy casserole dish if you have one (so you won’t have to transfer the beans when you want to put them in the oven). Cover them with water. This needs to reach 2 inches above the top of the beans. Bring to the boil and boil hard for 10 minutes, skimming off the scum. Reduce to a gentle simmer and cook for 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 140C/275F/Gas 1

If using a saucepan, now transfer to an ovenproof casserole. Add all the other ingredients but NO salt at this point. Cover and cook for 3 hours. After this time, taste and season carefully with salt (the pork will be salty). Cook, uncovered for a further hour.

Pickled Fennel

4 bulbs fennel
500ml white wine vinegar
3 teaspoons salt
5 tablespoons sugar (or more to taste)
1 orange
1 lemon
1 scant teaspoon pink peppercorns
5 black peppercorns
1 teaspoon coriander seeds

Cut the fennel in half lengthways and remove the core. Slice horizontally into thin strips. Place in a colander, mix well with the salt and leave to drain for 1 hour.

Remove the zest from the lemon and orange and juice the fruits. After the fennel has finished draining, mix in the zests and pack the mix into a sterilised jar.

In a small pan combine the citrus juices, vinegar, sugar, coriander seeds and peppercorns. Heat the mixture almost to boiling point, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Pour this over the fennel, making sure that it is all covered. Seal and allow to cool.

I sharpened my elbows and scythed through the hoards of tourists lining the South Bank, eyes firmly on the prize: Pitt Cue Co. Stationed underneath Hungerford Bridge, a purpose built van is serving up American-style BBQ for the next four glorious months; be still my beating heart. A friend and I have been waiting for this place to open for weeks, following their every move on Twitter, waiting for that call. As said friend is currently living it up in Japan eating warm cod’s sperm (I’m told), I took it upon myself to check it out and report back.

This food is different to the BBQ style we are used to in the UK; Americans, as far as I can tell, tend to dry rub large pieces of meat then smoke them for a long time, cooking indirectly, before finishing with sauce. Pulled pork with slaw and pickles anyone? Brisket with beans and more pickles? Ribs? Rotisserie chicken? Smoked corn? Hello!

No woman should plunge into a meat feast without lining her stomach appropriately; we ordered two ‘picklebacks’, which come either with, or without, ‘skin’. A pickleback for those of you who don’t know (I didn’t), is well popular in the Deep South, and consists of a shot of Bourbon (never too early) followed by an equal-sized shot of pickle brine. The ‘skin’ is strips of pork crackling. You drink the bourbon first, its peaty warmth shooting down your throat, soothing anaesthetic; you follow quick smart with the brine, sweet and really pleasant, extinguishing the effects of the bourbon like it never happened. I felt momentarily sad and empty until a little pot of bubbly pork crackling arrived; we demolished the salty pig snacks in seconds.

Attention turned to the brisket, billed as a special. Cooked for 12 hours plus, the meat was, in the words of my boyfriend, ‘so tender it’s like beef spaghetti’. See for yourself below…

Each bite exploded with juice, sauce and all round BOOM, flavour. Wearing white trousers while eating this = major error. It came with slaw (you can choose between beans and slaw) and sweet, crunchy, spiced pickles: inhalable. On the side, two slices of rye, made by Bridget who runs Wild Caper deli in Brixton; she bakes it every morning in the burning furnace of Franco Manca’s pizza oven, before they start service.

The pulled Gloucester Old Spot pork had also benefited from 12 hours plus in the smoker. I marvelled at the tender strands which swerved any danger of claggyness. Beans too; baby-food comfort with bite. A hunk of bread is necessary to soak up juices but doesn’t dominate; a wise decision not to serve the meat in buns in my opinion.

We chat to Zeren Wilson as we eat, perching on stools out front. He tells us that  Tom Adams, the chef behind the show has worked at the Blueprint Cafe before embarking on this and he’s only 22. He cheers as we order two picklebacks, “the first two of the day!” and he seems bursting with excitement, as he should be. There are drinks too, Brew Dog’s Punk IPA, now in cans (one of my all time favourite beers); The Kernel, a London pale ale; Sambrook’s Wandle; Burrow Hill cider. We are strongly encouraged to think about picklebacking ‘Fighting Cock’ bourbon next time we visit. These people are talking my language. Go.

Pitt Cue Co.
Under Hungerford Bridge from 1pm to about 10pm, Wednesday-Sunday.